The Lawyer and the Killer Ch. 10

Chapter Ten
In the Belly of the Beast:

Outside the old central business district of a city not too distant from Washington D.C. there was a large late Nineteenth Century hotel. The actual name of the city or its precise location is irrelevant to the reader. It could have been northeast, north, or even south of the nation's capital. But the hotel itself, by the standards of its day, was on the cutting edge of architectural excellence. Even one hundred ten years later it was still the object of artistic and creative envy.

On one of the middle floors of this magical old structure were a handful of luxury suites that had been partially converted. Their owner could accomplish a multiplicity of tasks in his customized little world. There was a magnificent residential suite, close by was a lavishly accoutered suite specifically set up to entertain female guests, and last was a sumptuous dining area meeting room with its concomitant massive oaken table.

There were other lesser, smaller, even more specialized rooms. There was a secret business office. In this office the central authority conspired with selected cohorts, received obeisance from devoted followers, and meted out justice to those whose failures required retribution.

It was to this last room that Todd Bitterman was summoned. His employer, his overlord, Oscar Camulos, was displeased.

Bitterman was seated in a small antechamber adjoining the main room waiting for an audience.

Camulos, seated in a large leather upholstered swivel chair, sent a lieutenant, a trigger man, out to fetch the frightened and nervous flunky. Camulos stared down at the overlarge onyx ring he wore on his left pinkie He reflected on the days when he personally smashed jaws ands broke noses. Though older and more beefy these days, he was still a powerful man with big hands that could be balled into huge fists. He still sometimes preferred the 'personal touch' to the younger hired guns he employed.

He reflected not long ago in this very room he'd made a powerful point with a fist. A young man with his girl friend had failed to succeed on a specific job. The botched job was irrelevant, a minor thing, the punishment was what mattered.

After a few moments of desultory discussion he stealthily extracted a pair of brass knuckles from his desk and smashed the young girl in the nose. He flattened her nose against her face, blood spewed out all over the carpet. When her boyfriend rose to her defense he pounded him down with a dozen hammer-like blows. When it was over it was difficult to tell who'd left the most teeth and blood on the plush carpet, the girl or the boy friend.

Breaking up that beautiful girl's face had been the highlight of his day. Sure he had her nose fixed later, but everyone got the message. She was too pretty, and by the way she looked at him she'd found him too ugly. With one swift swipe of the hand he'd made them equals. For a while she was as ugly as he was; a valuable lesson for those he employed.

Camulos remembered the look of repugnance on the Slattery woman's face when she was sitting beside him in the car. He reached over and fiddled with a large marble paperweight on his desk. He picked it up; it had a nice heft. He bet it could do a lot of damage. He dropped it back his desk; yes, a lot of damage.

Bitterman entered the room and was proffered a chair. The trigger man stood behind.

"We have a problem, you and I." growled an irritated Oscar Camulos.

"I know. I know, and I'm on it." replied the visibly shaking Bitterman.

Camulos leaned forward, folding his hands in front of his face just under his chin, "You do know do you? Tell me what you know."

"The Slattery woman's back with her killer boyfriend, and we haven't been able to track him down."

Camulos gave Bitterman a cold blooded, predatory, stare, "Is that all?"

Todd Bitterman knew he'd failed to bring Susan Slattery into Oscar Camulos's orbit. This had been his first priority, and he's failed at it miserably. He knew the costs of failure, and he was terrified, "If McClellan hadn't resurfaced she'd be in your bedroom right now. But he showed up again. He screwed up all my plans."

Camulos twisted around slightly in his chair. He looked beyond Bitterman to the hired assassin behind the quaking man. The unspoken message he was sending the frightened businessman was clear, "I wanted her Bitterman. I wanted her as a legal counselor and I wanted her for personal reasons. What do you think we should do about this?"

"Give me another opportunity Mr. Camulos. We've already got the documentation we need to draw her in. She'd signed off on several things while she was first home from the hospital." Bitterman tried to lighten the conversation, "She was so moonstruck over the baby and me I was able to get her signature on quite a few things."

He saw his effort at deflecting his failure wasn't working, "I can get her Mr. Camulos. I'll get her for you, if you give me another chance."

Camulos leaned back in his chair. He lit a large expensive foreign manufactured cigar, "I'm disappointed, very disappointed."

He looked beyond Bitterman to the man behind him, "Tell me Myron. Do you think Mr. Bitterman here deserves another chance?"

From the back of the room Todd Bitterman heard the man pass sentence, "No, this guy's a piece of shit. Let me take him out, dump him in a fifty gallon drum, and blow several dozens holes in it."

Myron was a psychopath. He lived to kill people, that's why Camulos kept him around, "No I think we can afford to give our friend Todd here one more chance." He looked at Todd, "You still want another chance?"

"Oh yes sir."

"Good, but you understand your failure has complicated things. That means you'll have to do more to stay even."

"Anything Mr. Camulos. I'll do anything."

"That's my boy." said Camulos, "Here's what you need to do. First you must bring Susan Slattery to me. Not by force. I want her to come to me of her own free will."

Bitterman nodded his head vigorously. He knew better than to interrupt.

Acknowledging the nod, "Good, that done I want you and Myron here to personally find Mr. Shawn McClellan, and I want you." Oscar Camulos pointed directly at Todd Bitterman, "I want you to be the one who puts a bullet in his brain."

Bitterman thought he was going to wet his pants. He was no killer. He'd never ever fired a gun, "Mr. Camulos."

Camulos cut him off, "You aren't going to say anything to let me down now are you Todd?"

Bitterman backed off, "No sir."

"Very good. Then here's what you do. You and Myron will find McClellan and kill him. Leave his body out someplace. In an alley say, or in the park; someplace where people will find it. When I read about it in the newspapers, how this United Nations hero was found dead; then I'll know you did your part."

Bitterman was still scared, but he'd gotten a reprieve, "Yes sir. Bring you Susan Slattery, and kill Shawn McClellan. I'll do that. Yes sir."

Camulos got out of his big chair and walked around the big mahogany desk, "That's what I want to hear. Get the jib done Todd, and there will be something special in it for you. I promise."

Todd smiled and shook the outstretched hand of the psychotic Oscar Camulos.

"One last thing though Todd."

He turned around, "Sir?"

"You fail; Myron here will find you that fifty gallon barrel."

Todd looked askance at Myron, "Yes sir. I mean no sir. I won't fail. Consider it all done."

Camulos waved him off, "Now get out of here."

Of course Camulos had already made plans. Todd Bitterman had long ago outlived his usefulness. Once he finished his two jobs, that special reward would be a new pair of shoes, nice ones, custom made of concrete.

Across the River From the Capital:

Across the Potomac River from the nation's capital there sat an older man in a moderately comfortable chair preparing for the first of several meetings. A history buff, his code name was Sam Houston. He was one of the key figures in charge of operations at CID headquarters. The first person on his list of contacts was his personal favorite, a protégé, and a man he'd grown to love and respect, Shawn McClellan. The message he had for McClellan was important, though Shawn wouldn't appreciate it.

Warrant Officer Sam Houston switched on his intercom, "Alice I need to see Mr. McClellan now."

Outside the warrant officer's private room his secretary pointed to McClellan and pointed to the door. Shawn knew it was time.

Shawn walked in, the warrant officer pointed to a chair, and he sat down.

"Did you enjoy our dinner the other evening?"

Shawn answered, "Yes sir, very much."

"You understand I meant it when I said you're out of CID."

"Yes sir I understood, but I still don't know why." Shawn wanted to stay in the service. He believed he still had a lot to contribute.

The warrant officer wasn't holding a termination interview. This was something different, more important, "You're not being retired or cashiered. You're simply being reassigned to another government agency; an agency where there will be a lot less danger but a lot more paperwork."

"I like it here sir, said Shawn.

"I'm glad you do. I'd be disappointed if you didn't, but it's my call not yours. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Now Shawn here's what I want, I need, you to do." Warrant Officer Houston started to digress, "You're to go to New York to the United Nations. You have a lot of testifying to do. There are people there who'll be glad to see you. I want you to renew those acquaintances. I want you to get back into your world health activities.

Socialize, get out; be seen. I want you to have a much higher profile. But I don't want you to go off on any expeditions. Stay in New York. I'll see to it you have lots of money. When the time comes I'll contact you."

"Yes sir. Would it be possible if I had a few days off before I went north?"

The Warrant Officer pierced him with a sharp stare, "There's another thing. The woman Susan Slattery; beautiful girl, smart. She's in a lot of trouble, doesn't know it yet, but she could go to jail. I know how you feel. Believe me I want what's best for you and for her. Her situation is a tough one, but I want you to trust me. If you must see her, and I believe you will regardless of anything I say, be discreet, keep it short. Can I trust you on this?"

"Sam you know I'm head over heels in love with her. She has my baby. I've put my neck out for her twice before. She's my life."

"Listen to me Shawn. I know how you feel. I know most everything there is to know about the two of you. I'm not trying to hurt you. Neither am I going to leave her out to dry. But I am telling you there's nothing you can do that will help. You try to help her it'll only make things more complicated."

He stood up and walked over to where Shawn was sitting, "Shawn I know I can trust you. But do you trust me?"

"I trust you."

"Good. Then let me handle this. If you have to see her, keep it well below the radar. Then get to New York, and let me do my job." The Warrant Officer pulled Shawn to his feet, "Now get out of here."

Shawn stood up, "Yes sir."

As soon as Shawn left his office Warrant Officer Houston got up, put his coat on, and left. He had two more conferences; one with an FBI agent, and one with a woman.

Somewhere in Western Maryland:

Western Maryland was one of those regions of the country known for its picturesque, not breath taking scenery. There was nothing in the Blue Ridge or Appalachian Mountains reminiscent of what the Great Western States had, but Western Maryland had its appeal. Richard Nixon's political career had been jump started by a pumpkin patch in Western Maryland. Camp David was there, as were close to a dozen top secret military installations.

Just outside one of those highly secret installations four South Korean men were sitting in a car on the side of a road. They chose the car over any of the many hotels, motels and Bed and Breakfasts in the area to insure greater secrecy. One never knew this close to Washington, hard by NSA, and the whole Washington D.C. Route 95 corridor who might try to listen in.

Central to the conversation was Kim, special ROK agent, friend and confidant of Shawn McClellan. Kim hadn't started as a ROK agent. He'd been recruited when they discovered his involvement with the UN, and his personal proximity to several CID and CIA operatives hadn't hurt. From his first recruitment had emerged a superlative underground player. Kim was among their very best agents; a valued commodity.

It wasn't that the government of South Korea mistrusted the United States. More to the point they had the same kind of vested interest in American activity as did Israel and Taiwan. They were dependent upon American goodwill and support. It never hurt to be well informed as to what one's friend's intentions were; especially when those intentions might affect the very survival of ones own country.

The head agent in the group, sitting in the rear passenger seat behind the driver spoke first, "Kim we're proud of the work you've done for us. You're success in Africa was extraordinary."

"Thank you sir." Was Kim's only reply. Being the laconic sort Kim wasn't prone to lengthy comments or replies.

"We have another job for you." The head man asserted.

"Yes sir," said Kim.

"It's a tough one."

"I'm ready."

"You know McClellan is back in the United States. He's about to be reassigned out of CID."

Kim looked surprised, "Really?"

"We don't know where he's going, but we do know wherever it is there will be something going on."

"You want me to keep an eye on him, and report back."

"It's more than that. We're comfortable he's an agent friendly to Korea, not someone we'd have to remove, but we know there are others, people of no interest to us who want him out of the way."

"You want me to protect him?" was Kim's comment.

"Keep an eye on him. Follow him. Watch who's watching him. If you have to protect him do so. Keep us well informed as to whom you think is watching or stalking him." The head man turned and pointed to the man beside him, "You know Lee here."

Kim nodded.

"He'll be your contact. He'll be available if you need him. He'll also be watching you, covering your back as it were. You have something to report, share it with Lee, and he'll get it back to us. If he thinks you're in danger, he'll handle it. Understand?"

"Yes sir. Does Shawn Know I'm going to be around?"

The head agent leaned forward to the man in the shotgun seat, "No he won't know, and you're not to inform him. He has his hands full as it is. If he thought you were around, he might start worrying about you. We don't want that. We want him as free and as unfettered as possible." The head agent paused, "One more thing, off the record, Kia's family has accepted your proposal. Once this is all over we'll see to it the two of you both get a well deserved honeymoon and rest."

Kim, not given to outward displays of emotion still managed a smile, "Thank you sir."

"Now we'll drop you off. Stay safe."

Off they drove. Kim had his orders and his future in his hands.

Back on the Street:

Officer Houston got out of his car and walked to the MacDonald's. He ordered a large coke, small bag of fries, and a hamburger. He'd sworn off the cheese the last several weeks and had lost three pounds. He knew it was always the little things that made the difference.

He took his bag and walked over to the steel grey sedan where another man was sitting eating what looked like a Big Mac. 'Too bad,' thought the Warrant Officer.' He'll be overweight and out of shape in a few years. He got in the passenger's seat, and opened his bag of food.

"You're FBI Agent Miller?"

"You're Warrant Officer Sam Houston?"

They shook hands.

Houston spoke first, "You work for me now."

"That's what they tell me."

"I'm not going to sit here and beat around the bush." He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope, "Read what's in here, and then burn it."

"Like Mission Impossible?"

"Like Mission Impossible."

Agent Miller didn't want to end the meeting right away, "You have anything else for me, any extra news, an added tidbit maybe?"

Houston knew about Miller, and liked him, but had to be careful, "Don't pull any of that cute FBI crap with me. We know over at CID how you guys feel about us. All you smart ass lawyer types with your superior airs. You read what I gave you. Destroy it, and don't try to get fancy. And remember. You report to me now, not your FBI boss. Got it?"

Miller hadn't planned on a lecture. He certainly never had any airs regarding CID, and he knew not to report to anyone but the warrant Officer, "Don't worry. We're all on the same page."

The Warrant Officer had one more admonition, "Make sure, after you read the report, you stay there." He didn't wait. He got out of the car and walked back to his own vehicle. He had another visit to make, and that was the one he wasn't looking forward to.

Sam had to talk to Susan. He drove on most of the afternoon. His appointment was at 4:30, but with the traffic, and a couple brief stops he had to make he was just barely on time. Sam wished he hadn't gotten such a large coke. He pulled onto the parking lot, parked his car, and walked up the three flights to the woman's apartment.

It was a newer apartment complex, maybe ten or fifteen years old, with concrete stairs protected by a glassed in wall. Along each landing there were four apartments, two on each side. Susan lived on the third floor, apartment 3C. It was easy to locate. He rang the bell and waited.

After perhaps three minutes the door opened. Susan asked, "May I help you?" She knew right away because of the man's uniform who it was and certainly who it was about. Cutting the polite remarks off she said, "Won't you come in?"

Sam walked in the apartment. He looked around. It was small and sparsely furnished, not what he expected at all, "I'm here about a mutual friend of ours." He heard crying in the background.

"Excuse me. I'll only be a second." As she turned she asked, "Won't you sit down?" She went back to get her baby.

Seconds later she was out with Shawna on her arm, "It's her time. You won't mind if she nurses while we talk?"

Sam answered, "Not at all." He sat down. "I suppose you know why I'm here."

Susan responded, "Sort of. Maybe you'd like to fill me in?"

Sam sat back and began to speak, "What I have to say won't take too long, but I do have a few things to clear up. I'm not holding you up am I?"

"If this is about Shawn you're not holding me up."

"It is." He leaned forward resting his forearms on his thighs, "You're in love with Shawn."

"This is his baby. Yes he and I are in love."

"You understand what line of work he's in."

Susan moved to give Shawna a better shot at her breast, "I'm not sure of anything about Shawn. I can tell you this much. He's a kidnapper, a murderer, an aid worker, he probably has something to do with the army, and he's the man I love and intend to marry."

"Well you got some of it," Sam said, "But there's more to it than meets the eye. Would you like to hear a little of it?"

"I Didn't get your name. What's your name?"

She'd caught him off guard. " I'm sorry, my code name is Sam Houston. I'm Shawn's superior in the government agency where he used to work. Now do you want me tell you anything?"

"Tell me everything you can."

"I can do that. First, I know he loves you, and second that makes everything else twice as complicated."

Susan smiled, "Go ahead. I've got time."

"Well Shawn works for an information gathering agency that's a part of the army."

Susan interrupted, "That would be CID."

"You said it, not me. He's worked for us for several years. In that capacity he's been involved in a great deal, some of it unsavory. Is he a murderer, no. Has he killed anyone, yes. Remember the Ten Commandments?"